


potential

by darlathecyborgpluviophile



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Character Study, Deviant Connor, Dissociation, Drabble, Feelings Realization, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, M/M, Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27905749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlathecyborgpluviophile/pseuds/darlathecyborgpluviophile
Summary: Connor doesn’t even have time to process that thought and follow it through to its most logical conclusion because suddenly there are arms around him and layers of winter coat and sweater and button-up shirt all pressing against the crisp lines of his uniform.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	potential

It doesn’t make sense. The backup was maybe two whole yards away from him, but Connor’s never heard a gunshot that loud in his life. It echoes in the vast cavern of the storage facility, the rows and rows of plastic bodies providing nothing with which to deafen the noise.

And Hank doesn’t even look regretful.

Granted, Connor’s not really focusing on him, eyes instead glued to the body on his left. A perfect replica. Thirium drips from the bullet wound on his (own) forehead, running down the sharp bridge of his (own) nose, the side of his (own) cheek, slowly, slowly to the floor. Distantly, there is the sound of metal against leather, a soft metal _snap_. Hank’s probably put the gun away.

Is this what he looked like at Stratford Tower?

But Connor doesn’t even have time to process that thought and follow it through to its most logical conclusion because suddenly there are arms around him and layers of winter coat and sweater and button-up shirt all pressing against the crisp lines of his uniform. He’s shocked. He barely has time to process anything. Disbelieving, he looks up to see Hank, _truly_ Hank, lips pursed together in something like anger or maybe defiance and the lines of his face sagging in their rigidity, only to have his head pulled down onto Hank’s shoulder by a gentle hand. Hank smells like smoke and whiskey and cold sweat and everything Connor thought he would smell like and he finds he doesn’t even mind. His arms are still rigid at his sides, though. His hands ball into fists.

Hank’s stubble brushes against the back of Connor’s neck and up to the top of his head. It’s a pleasant sensation. One, Connor suddenly realizes, he’d like to experience more of.

A realization trickles into him like icy rain, like snowflakes in the garden, terrifying and liberating – he _can_. _He can_.

For some reason, a brief memory of Markus and North flashes into his mind.

Maybe he’s allowed to have this.

And with that thought, almost automatically his arms lift, finding the weather-roughened back of Hank’s coat and grabbing on, clenching fistfuls. Connor feels the low, relief-filled hum in Hank’s chest as he breathes.

It’s quiet. The palms of his hands sting from digging his nails too deep into the synthetic skin. He’s wasting time.

Hank pulls away then, and with his absence, Connor realizes just how cold he’s been his entire, short life. Hank smirks, and gives him a light shove in the shoulder.

“I’ve learned a lot since I met you, Connor.”

There’s a light in his eyes Connor doesn’t think he’s seen before.

“Go ahead, do what you gotta do.”

Connor blinks.

He nods.

And walks away from the body.

**Author's Note:**

> the last installment of Gossamer will return soon, but probably not by the end of the year
> 
> also i'm super into this game now don't @ me I love sad robots


End file.
